


25 Days of Color

by vcumonkey



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vcumonkey/pseuds/vcumonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>No copyright infringement intended. Doctor Who and Rose Tyler belong to Davies and Moffatt and the BBC and there are a few direct quotes, but one mainly from Season Four.</p>
    </blockquote>





	25 Days of Color

**Author's Note:**

> No copyright infringement intended. Doctor Who and Rose Tyler belong to Davies and Moffatt and the BBC and there are a few direct quotes, but one mainly from Season Four.

Prompt: Gold  
Word Count: 918  
Rating: PG  
Author's Notes: No copyright infringement intended. Doctor Who and Rose Tyler belong to Davies and Moffatt and the BBC and there are a few direct quotes, but one mainly from Season Four.

 

 

There is nothing dull about Rose Tyler. Any idiot could see she is more than just a girl from the Powell Estates, could see that she is destined for so much more than a shop worker. She is brave and confident and achingly beautiful, and has such gentleness about her that she became an instant success on any world to which they went. He always trusts her with everything, with both of his hearts, and would never wish to be separated from her.

But, Rassilon, she is _terrifying_ when she is angry.

Normally, his Rose is docile as a kitten, sweet as sugar. He could rarely say anything wrong, could hardly offend her (in this body, that is; his ninth incarnation was forever insulting her, and she still brings up how wrong it was to call her a stupid ape). But she had such a jealous streak in her; trading barbs with Sarah Jane, scoffing at pretty aliens at markets that looked too long, and woe betide him should he even _mention_ French maidens. Today he made such an error; although, in his defense, she had really taken it far too seriously. He had merely suggested it would be an interesting excursion to go to Ancient Egypt, so that he might introduce her to one of his favorite ladies (even though Cleo often became an envious monster whenever he brought his companions to meet her). All he had said was that he would love for Rose and Cleo to meet, because they were both such dynamic and similar women.

“Cleo?” she had intoned, and he mistook her query as assent and continued digging himself a hole large enough to fit in the Medusa Cascade.

“Oh, yeah! Cleo, Cleo, the loveliest woman that ever ruled Egypt. Well...I say lovely; she was more a beauty to behold. Well, beauty? Really, she could only _really_ be the most beautiful woman in the world if her bedchamber were expanded to the size of the Earth and all her handmaidens had had the day off. But, she isn’t a Slitheen.” Rose’s eyes had flashed at this, and her golden hair had seemed to crackle with energy. Still, he had not seen. He had proven himself more idiotic than Mickey the Idiot. He continued rambling; really, this incarnation certainly had a gob that did not know how to shut up. “I’ve never met a nice looking Slitheen; but Talpooks, blimey, they’re really lovely. And such great kissers! They have this festival on their planet Toosh that rejoices in the art of kissing. They celebrate for a week, Rose! I remember, this one time I took—”

“I swear, if you’re about to tell me some asinine story about you making out with one of the many women you bring on this poor ship, I will slap you.”

He notices, then, the raw power surrounding her. He rarely sees this side of her, the Bad Wolf side, the terrible and staggering heart of the Tardis that still lingers in her mind. He remembers when they were on the planet Myropy, desperately trying to save a village from a flood brought on by the destruction of their moon. He had watched as a tree, swept up by the waters, came bearing down on a tiny child, possibly no older than three. Rose’s eyes, usually so warm and brown, had become gold, glowing with energy that radiated outward, blasting into the tree and wrapping around the child, so that he glimmered with her power. She later claimed not to remember what had happened, but even though he could see the lie, he respected her right to silence.

Now, however, he feels a slight fear. He knows she would never harm him intentionally, but the heart of the Tardis is unpredictable, and she could turn him into a gold statue quicker than he could blink (let’s not think about _those_ again). “Rose? Did I, ehm, say something wrong?”

He knows. He _knows_ , and that is what makes it worse. She sweeps her gilded hair from her shoulders, stalking towards him, halcyon eyes burning into him. “Doctor, I know you’re an ancient Time Lord, from the constellation of Kasterborous, Oncoming Storm and Bringer of Darkness and all that, but need I remind you that I am the bringer of life, the divider of existence, and I really don’t need to hear about your sexual escapades, yeah?”

He splutters in indignation. “Sexual escapades? _Sexcapades?_ I’ll have you know, Rose Tyler, that I have _never_ participated in a sexcapade! Well, perhaps once, on Rome. Not the city, mind you, but the planet. The wine there is molto bene! But I’ll have you know, Rose, that I only went there to save the emperor from Sontarans. They were planning on stealing all of his gold and treasures _and_ murder him, so I had to go to save him. It’s not _my_ fault the Tardis got the date wrong—” An angry hum cuts him off, and he strokes his ship lovingly. “Not that you do that all the time, old girl.”

He looks up, and Rose is there in front of him, hair crackling, eyes golden, face flushed, slight grin in place. Oh. _Oh._ She really is a devious, terrifying, _lovely_ woman, his wolfish Rose, and he would not give her up for any planet or person in the universe. As he reaches for her, he says, “Perhaps we could visit Rome.”

“Maybe later,” she replies, and her fire tingles his skin.  



End file.
